A Bit Of Love, Confusion & A Golliwog
by MooEsq
Summary: As the title goes... (Rated PG, at the moment). Chapter 4 & 5 UP! I think I'm heading the Chloe & Lex way...I think...But now, writer's block! Gaaaah!...
1. Two Girls, A Guy & A Golliwog

Summary: In my mind's eye there will be Clark/Lana, Chloe/Clark, Lex/Chloe, Chloe/Lex or Clark???…You get where I'm going and we'll see how it ends.  
  
Author's Note: I do this because its human nature to want things the way they want it. This is my first foray into fan fiction and I don't know whether I will suck an egg…or two. Be honest and tell me to fry or die.   
  
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…   
  
  
CHAPTER 1 – 2 Girls, A Guy & A Golliwog  
  
  
*Smallville High…present day  
  
CLARK  
  
I am trying my best to concentrate on Mr. Watson's voice as he drones on about some war, somewhere. Mr. Watson, our History teacher, speaks of the glory and gore of war in a monotonous voice generally associated with the disjointed mechanical voice of computers. All around me there are familiar faces set in a sea of classic classroom behaviours – furtive whispering, behind-the-book giggling fits, strategic eraser-throwing, outright yawning, downright sleeping and teacher petting.   
  
Although the subject of war is usually fascinating for most of the male species helped by the fresh injection of testosterone on the onset of puberty, I can hardly blame Mr. Watson (although of no help, see above) for my lack of concentration. She sits in front of me, and I find her most fascinating.   
  
If I edge my fingers any closer towards the end of my table I can touch her long hair flowing over the back of her chair. Sometimes when the breeze comes in through the windows I think I can smell the flyaway sweetness of it. I look out for days when Mr. Watson gives out course materials because we all have to "Pass it on guys", the bespectacled Mr. Watson with a head full of toupee says in an attempt to 'get with it'. She will turn to me her perfect lips mouthing the words "Pass it on Clark", and smiles. My world burst into fruity flavours.  
  
My name is Clark Kent, her name is Lana Lang, and I am failing History.  
  
Although failing History in the grand scheme of things is the least of my problems…  
  
  
**********  
  
  
"You lucked out today huh? No papers to pass on?"   
  
*Spot on. As usual.*   
  
The words came out from the mouth of one Chloe Sullivan, Smallville High's dedicated editor of 'The Torch', believer of the weird and one of my best friends. A spunky cute blond being the usual description given to Chloe (although the words 'infuriating' have been known to be added to this description depending on who you talk to), through years of friendship she has the ability to read me like a book. I glance down at all 5 feet 5 inches of her from my considerably taller 6 feet 2 inches perch and she flashes me an infuriating grin, the one she dishes out to me in all things Lana.   
  
Chloe was there when my quiet crush on Lana started in Kindergarten. Lana wanted the wooden blocks I was playing with and cried when our teacher told her to wait for her turn. My 6-year-old self turned gallant at the sight of those big brown eyes in tears, and her trembling pink lips. The stuff that make even 6-year-old boys fall, I passed her the blocks without question, mesmerised. 6-year-old Chloe however, thumped Lana on the head with a golliwog. Lana cried even more and Chloe thumped me on the head with her (then) deadly golliwog. But it was too late and I was hooked.   
  
From that day Lana in a dress made for a princess armed with tears and a bow in her hair became a crush and Chloe in shorts armed with a golliwog became my best friend.  
  
  
**********  
  
  
"Sometimes Clo, I don't know whether to smack you or kiss you", I say to her in an affectionately yet menacing tone, with visions of thumping her cute blond head with her own golliwog crossing my mind.  
  
"You could always do both when spoilt for choice Clark," she says, fake-batting her eyelashes at me. "I've always pegged you as the S & M type".  
  
For one split second my male chromosomes bought the come-hither look in Chloe's eyes and we were in a land where I could kiss Chloe if I wanted to, with or without the handcuffs and whips…  
  
*Whoa, hold on!*   
  
A second later, I was back in Smallville mentally cursing myself for the thought of Chloe and I kissing. It seems preposterous to say the least! I feel a blush coming on and mercifully for me Chloe had turned on her heels and went into the newsroom.   
  
"Spunky cute INFURIATING blond!" I say to her retreating back.  
  
"Don't call me cute", she flipped back and with that we've got our best bud mode back on track.   
  
And all is well.  
  
  
********** 


	2. The Three Amigos

Author's Note: Here we go…  
  
Ps/ Thanks to SmallvilleFreak for my very first review :-)…what a buzz.  
  
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…   
  
  
CHAPTER 2 – The Three Amigos  
  
CHLOE  
  
History has never been a favourite subject of mine. More so this year where as freshmen we are landed with quite possibly the most boring teacher in Smallville High. Mr. Watson aka The Drone aka Mr What? Aka Toupee Top. If tepid water had a voice, it would sound like Mr. Watson…'nuff said.  
  
I am dead bored and although trying to discern the shade of Mr. Watson's toupee could whittle away the minutes (Is it orange? Is it wheatish? Is it wheatish orange??), I turn my attention elsewhere and noticed Clark zoning out. Flexing my fingers, I proceed to strategically zero aiming my eraser at Clark's brown haired head, who sits at my 2-o clock, 2 rows in front of me. Over the weeks I have honed my mini-bazooka skills to miss Shawn's nose and Debra's hair. Most times I hit his head and Clark turns to flash that megawatt Clark smile in my direction. Sometimes I overshoot and hit Lana's head…and Clark turns to give me "the look".   
  
I overshoot quite a bit actually, honed skills be damned.  
  
  
**********  
  
  
My best friend Clark Kent has had a crush on Lana Lang since the beginning of time. Or so it feels like sometimes. Ever since Kindy when Clark played saviour to Lana's distress and I thumped his head with, Bernie, my golliwog. Over the years I've "looked" out for Clark in all things Lana. My infuriated looks turning into infuriating grins while I try to downplay Clark's pain when Lana goes out with yet another hotshot and/or jock. I suppose you couldn't blame the guy, I look dispassionately at the beatific profile of Smallville High's resident IT girl. Silky brown hair, big brown eyes, perfectly made up, perfectly dressed. And nice. That's Lana for you. All round Ms. Perfection.  
  
I wonder if she shoots up between her toes? Or slaughter chicken at midnight in some satanic ritual to keep her pact with the devil? Don't mind me, sometimes the inner bitch in me speaks up…and we all have those now, don't we?  
  
My eraser takes off and hits bulls-eye.  
  
"Oops! Sorry Lana!" I mouth silently at her as she turns to flash me her pearly white/wide smile and I entertain Clark's "look" with my tongue.  
  
*Helloooo Ms. Inner-Bitch!*   
  
And I chuckle to myself.  
  
  
**********  
  
After combat training class (and after snippily taunting Clark about Ms. Lang), I rush to get to the newsroom. I am the Editor of the Torch this year, an achievement I am most proud of, being the first freshmen to be appointed so. I suppose there wasn't any other choice after I bombarded Principal Kwan's office with a mountain of articles. Dedication to my passions has never been a problem of mine.  
  
"Hey Pete", I greet my other best friend, who is sitting on a desk as I walk into the newsroom. Clark follows my greeting in unison.  
  
"Ready for the Homecoming dance Ms. Sullivan?" Pete asks me as I sit down in front of my beloved iMac.  
  
"You betcha bippy boys. I have my ball gown, pearls and tiara all set for tonight!" I flippantly answer Pete.  
  
Yes people, tonight is Homecoming Dance. All around school you can hear nothing but talks of limousines, shades of lipsticks, heels of every size, shape and colour, dresses of every kind. You go into the girls toilet and there's a mini hair salon set up in there. Not to mention who would be the Homecoming King and Queen. Although this question is moot, for Lana and hey jock boyfriend, Whitney has their names practically inscribed on the crowns.  
  
Pete, Clark and I made a pact in grade school to go to Homecoming Dance together, as friends, like the Three Amigos, only without the sombreros. Pete thought it up one fine day whilst all three of us were sitting cross-legged on the school lawn. We had just watched 'The Outsider's' on the Kent's VCR and were feeling the natural angst of kids on the outside looking in.   
  
Clark, the serious non-jock with a quiet crush. Pete, the colored boy, with humour masking bigotry. And me, Chloe, opinionated to the bone.  
  
And so Pete thought it up, I seconded it, and Clark went along. Pete and I knew why Clark did it, and I think I did it because all through grade school I could count the number of dates I had with one hand. I was never into these kind of things anyway, my passion for journalism always foreshadowing other teen extra-curricular activities. Besides, I had my 2 favourite guys in my life anyway, and that's enough male factors for me.   
  
And deep down, we made this pact to save each other from the embarrassment of waiting for (and wanting) the perfect date. There is no rebel in any of us; we were friends, and friends look out for one another.  
  
It was a simple as that.   
  
  
********** 


	3. A Brand New Day

Author's Note: I think I know where I'm going, I think I know how to get there…I think and here we go…  
  
Ps/ Now I know why people write and publish, in every which way they can, be in novels, articles in school newspapers or fanfics. Thanks to SMVFreak, my3rdeye, Lrnd & Elfin for the reviews…I am bursting with fruit flavours :-)  
  
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…   
  
  
CHAPTER 3 – A Brand New Day  
  
THE LUTHOR ANCESTRAL HOME…much earlier that day  
  
LEX  
  
I open my eyes and watch my alarm clock glow green numeric. I am 3 minutes early; its 5.57am and I wait for it to ring in my victory at 6.00am. I do this every morning, like a self-test to see if I ever lose focus, or let down my guard. It sickens me to know that I never do…not in even in sleep.   
  
Frivolity eludes me, it always has. Even pre-meteor days, I was an insecure child at best. My mother, whom I loved like nothing else in the world, tried her best to inject some laughter and colour in my life…but with a domineering father like the one I had, it was like living in a black hole. Nothing could get through, except darkness and war euphemisms. My mother died of heart complications, that was the official diagnose. But I knew better. She died because he sucked the life out of her. And so post-meteor hairstyle (or lack thereof), I was determined to be the black hole in HIS life…just as he was to hers, and mine.  
  
And so Sir Daddy decides to send me to this hillbilly hick town called Smallville, thinking I would get as sleepy as its townsfolk and forget my mission to make his life a living hell. He was wrong. I spent all day researching, scheming, plotting and doing. One day Daddy, my black hole will be bigger.  
  
My Luthor mind awakes and I get out of bed. I tell myself it's a brand new day.  
  
But I kid myself, for it never is.  
  
  
**********  
  
  
*Do you ever feel like you are due for a change in character?*   
  
I am looking at my wardrobe, at my rows upon rows of impeccable black & grey pants, suits and shirts…all shades of grey, and I have this uneasy feeling that something in me wants to change or is changing, and I am powerless to stop it. It's like you are looking at life through eyes that are cold and grey and out of the corner of your eyes you see a flash of colour…a blinding red perhaps, or even a brighter blue.  
  
Maybe what they say about small towns getting underneath your skin is true; I look at myself dressed in my customary black pants and grey long sleeved cashmere top. Maybe tomorrow I'll be wearing dungarees like a farm boy and saying "Aww shucks". I am powerless to stop the grin (no, GRIM smile) that forms on my lips as I envision that thought.  
  
It's all started when wholesome Clark Kent saved me from a watery death in a Porsche a few days ago.   
  
My eyes are unaccustomed to random acts of kindness, parental love and true friendship, and after that day, there has been a kaleidoscope of colour in my life, albeit unwelcome glimpses, but absorbed nonetheless. In the form of Mr. Kent's arm around his heroic boy who jumped in cold waters and risked his farm boy life to save mine. On Mrs. Kent's white tulips, the ones she grows on the Kent farm, where I went to express my gratitude. In Chloe Sullivan's cornflower blue eyes, when we were introduced in The Beanery, as she calls me Mr. Luthor, in a voice that taunts otherwise.  
  
Ever since that day, I've felt myself drawn into the intricate social web that is Smallville. At The Beanery I am accosted by the wondrous smell of caffeine and the habits and social graces of the town's teenagers. I sit alone in an overstuffed armchair, slowly drinking my expresso and wait to be engulfed in a world that is so unlike mine. And last night Clark comes in and regales me with stories about the farm, Pete with his football fiascos and Chloe with her wonder of the weird. I see too, the perfect Lana Lang and her equally perfect boyfriend, Whitney, and I am reminded that nothing has changed in the world. Technology might change our infrastructure, but socially, everything remains the status quo. The beautiful cheerleading princess, the handsome jock, the earnest farm boy, the best friends… I hear talk of homecoming and while I am supposed to play Lord of the Manor and sit and watch, I jump in from their peripheral vision and say,  
  
"If you want it to be a night to remember, I shall graciously let you three have a free rein of the Luthor Limousine for the night."  
  
Clark says "Yes" and smiles his megawatt smile, Pete echoing in agreement, and Chloe finds the whole thing 'wicked'. And I think I have made friends.   
  
Life and colour in this hillbilly town, I muse and whistle down to have breakfast.   
  
*Aww shucks*   
  
And so you have it ladies and gentlemen, a new lease of life, a brand new day, whether you want it or not.  
  
  
********** 


	4. Pre-Homecoming Banters, Glitters & Jitte...

Author's Note: Okay, we're heading somewhere…I think.  
  
Ps/ Thank you very much for all the reviews. There has never been a better cheaper thrill than this :-)  
  
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…and it wasn't me.  
  
  
CHAPTER 4 – Pre-Homecoming Banters, Glitters & Jitters  
  
  
THE BEANERY…pre-Homecoming  
  
PETE  
  
"So you think Lex Luthor will hold true to his word tonight?" I ask Clark as we sit in a booth at The Beanery, waiting for our better one/third, Chloe, who has gone off and about on Torch duties, as usual. "Lex is a man of his words Pete, we'll be riding to the Homecoming Dance in style tonight", Clark says in a voice meant to reassure me that the Luthors were not scheming, callous human beings that history forewarned them to be.   
  
"So do you think Lana will be crowned Homecoming Queen this year?"  
  
I follow Clark's gaze to beautiful Lana Lang, and flip him a birdie for an answer.  
  
Although Clark has been my best friend since the first grade, sometimes I feel like double-whamming the guy when it comes to all things Lana. Clark's no troll, I can tell you that. If he were black, he'd be Denzel for sure. But ever since I've met him, he has been handicapped with his crush on the perfect Ms. Lang. Many-a-hearts have been trampled in Clark's oblivion to the member of the opposite sex, unless your initials were L.L, which stood for LANA LANG…not Lily Lambruster, not Lucy Liu and certainly not Lois Lane. I always felt that Clark was destined for greater things. If not for his face on a billboard advertising for Calvin Klein, then for some sporting glory because People! The dude has a bod of steel! And I'm not one who plays for the same team, if you catch my drift.   
  
I am unable to understand why Clark never excels in any sports despite the obvious physique. Hey, I'm a runt and I play for the football team! For years I (and I'm sure Chloe feels the same way) had this irrational fear that one day Lana Lang would give him the time of the day and Clark Kent would get all the confidence he needs to become a legendary jock true and true.   
  
And Chloe and I would be left in the dust, happy to have been in the presence of such a legend.  
  
Those irrational fears have been laid to rest over the years of course, when our friendship have been grown in strength over cans of cola and cups of latte, coloring books and math quizzes, school yard bullies and subtle bigotry; all the instances where you can draw the line between friendly acquaintance and true friendship. Enmeshed with the spirit of boyhood, the presence of one Chloe Sullivan is always there; as the extra can of cola and cup of latte, the loaner of missing crayons and an extra brain for study group, the little girl kick-in-the-shins in schoolyard fights and the scathing write-ups in articles on prejudices. In our world, three is never a crowd…   
  
Now, where the hell is Chloe??  
  
  
**********  
  
  
CLARK  
  
  
"What's keeping Chloe?" I say to Pete as I watch Lana leave The Beanery with her cheerleading friends. No doubt to out-primp themselves for the dance tonight. Not that Lana needs it of course; she could come to the dance dressed in a gunnysack and still win the crown hands down. No contest whatsoever.  
  
Pete seems engrossed in a conversation with his cup of latte as I look out of the window for signs of Chloe. A familiar figure passes by and enters The Beanery, walking through the doors with an aura befitting the rich and powerful. Four days ago, Lex Luthor would have walked in, ordered an espresso, sat in his usual overstuffed chair, opened up a newspaper and sat quietly reading. We have all seen him in here of course, what with him being the owner of this fine establishment and all. Pete and I have shushed Chloe as she rambles on about the possible effects the meteor had on his brains, after frying an entire head full of hair. We have been silently envious on how having no hair makes Lex looks rather distinguish and sleek while we would have looked like billiard balls, black and white ones, respectively…and Chloe would affirm on behalf of her species.  
  
That was four days ago. Before his blue Porsche hit me at 60 miles an hour, and we all flew into the Smallville River. Before I realized just how inhumanely strong I was, ripping off the car's hood to save Lex from being just another statistic of fast Porsche driving (like there was any other kind). Before I found out I was not from this earth and that failing history was the least of my problems.   
  
That was only four days ago.   
  
Last night Lex offered Chloe, Pete and I the use of his limousine for the Homecoming Dance. Lex the bald and distant Lord of the Manor suddenly becoming Lex, the bald and amiable (okay slightly, but the signs are good) Lord of the Manor and I think we could even be friends.  
  
Today Lex Luthor walks in and automatically looks around for familiar faces. He spots Pete and I at our booth, walks over and says,  
  
"Where's the indomitable Chloe Sullivan, your better one/third?"  
  
  
**********  
  
  
IN A HAIR SALON NOT SO FAR AWAY….  
  
  
CHLOE  
  
Omigod Omigod Omigod!!! Is it 4.30 already???  
  
I am starting to feel anxiety. Not that anxiety is a feeling unfamiliar to me for I know too well the anxiety of meeting a deadline but this kind of anxiety is freaking me out. It's the female kind, the oh-my-god-will-my-nails-dry-in-time kind.   
  
I am NEVER like this. Gaaaaaah! But it's too late, too late to back out now!!!  
  
I fidget as Shirley, the manicurist puts the final coat of gloss (the color is called 'Rosie-Posie' and I swear I'll sic my golliwog on you if you EVER breathe a word to this to anyone!) on my left pinky finger. Shirley the manicurist is also my aunt, the same one who buys me great books for my birthdays, and the same one who coerced me into this shameful act of vanity!!  
  
I look at my flush (read, excited) face in the mirror and remember that I have to meet my boys at The Beanery half an hour ago. I am thankful that my good senses have not completely vacated my usual sensible self, thus banning my beloved aunt from coming near my hair with curlers she profess would make my hair curl like Scarlet O' Hara. The boys would never let me live it down if I walked into the café with a head full of blond curls. They would scream "Shirley Temple!" and cups would be bazooka-ed at their temples. It would not have been a pretty scene. Thank God.  
  
I mentally curse the powers that be that allow women to be subjected to such societal pressures of making themselves beautiful. I never thought I would succumb to such pressures but I did. Me. Chloe Sullivan. With opinions up the kazoo and better things to do with her time than fret over the color of her nails and hair, like making sure my digital camera was charged, or what the next editorial for The Torch would be…  
  
What in the world happened?  
  
A few hours ago I was laughing at the mini hair salon set up in the girls' toilet. The next thing I knew I was watching Lana's beautifully manicured nails as she passed out flyers on the dangers of drinking and driving, and hearing Clark mumbling on how Lana had such pretty fingernails. Lana didn't even hear him. The wuss. Where is Bernie when I need him??   
  
Don't you kid yourself Chloe! You know exactly what hit the nail right on its head!   
  
No pun intended. I swear.   
  
I look down at my Rosie-Posie'd nails and before I could stop myself…  
  
Oh how very pretty!  
  
Damn it.  
  
  
**********  
  
  
STILL IN THE BEANERY…  
  
  
LEX  
  
  
"Ahh, here she comes." I remark to Pete Ross and Clark Kent, as I notice Chloe Sullivan, undoubtedly their better one/third, come flying in through the doors like a bat out of hell.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, boys…Mr. Luthor…The Torch needed me as usual", Chloe says, ruffling Clark and Pete's hair and pausing a millisecond before deciding against rubbing my bald head.   
  
Okay, make that a cute blond INFURIATING bat.  
  
Pete and Clark start chiding Chloe on her tardiness and how she should have more of a life than the Torch as I sit quietly in my seat and watch this banter between friends. Their excitement for tonight is apparent as they tease each other about tuxedos and ball gowns and tiaras. I find myself suddenly wishing I am not on the outside and simply looking in. It is disconcerting to have these feelings because I am used to wishing for a faster Porsche or the latest PDA and with a phone call, both would be on its way to the Luthor ancestral home where I await.  
  
How does one find/buy/acquire this familiarity in repartee and laughter with other human beings?  
  
I have no idea. And so I sit quietly, letting their life and color invade my gray world; Pete's jokes on wearing a sombrero for the dance, Chloe's laughter and pink glittery nails and Clark's dreamy hopeful gaze where I bet my birthright would be one, just one, dance with Lana Lang.  
  
"Will Mr. Luthor deign himself to be our designated driver for the night?" Chloe shakes me out of my reverie with her sassiness.  
  
"Your wish shall be my command my dear Ms. Sullivan. Your chariot shall await at your door, 7.30 sharp", I reply, hardly realizing the words that came out of my mouth.   
  
Great. From Lord of the Manor to designated driver.   
  
I am thinking it's about the right time to reclaim back my position as Lord of the Manor but before I go I find myself leaning over to Chloe's ear and telling her how pretty her fingernails look.  
  
Time to go Lex, before you've completely lost your head.  
  
No pun intended there. I swear.  
  
  
********** 


	5. Pre-Homecoming Banters, Glitters & Jitte...

Author's Note: I am hoping you guys would get what I'm trying to do here…  
  
Disclaimer: Usual disclaimer stuffs…and it wasn't me, it was the golliwog.  
  
  
CHAPTER 5 (OK, IT'S ACTUALLY CHAPTER 4 & A BIT) – Pre-Homecoming Banters, Glitters & Jitters  
  
  
THE BEANERY…still pre-Homecoming and immediately upon Lex's departure...  
  
  
PETE  
  
Lex Luthor designated driver?! Will wonders never cease?  
  
Chloe's right, the meteorite must have fried his brains as well.  
  
  
CLARK  
  
Lex Luthor designated driver?! Will wonders never cease?  
  
See I told you the signs are good.  
  
  
CHLOE  
  
He noticed.  
  
  
********** 


End file.
